Lethal Outcome
by Clone40992
Summary: The Firewall: Defendere innocentes - Defendere populis - Ad officium nostrum - Si vis pacem, para bellum. Meet the operators of The Firewall, chosen for the missions even primary assets couldn't complete on their own. The costs? An operator's sanity and life expectancy.
1. Dead Men Walking

**AN: Welcome to the new and improved Lethal Outcome! Previously submited OCs will still remain and new OCs are still wanted. This version will be more cannon compliant and feature more action, enjoy!**

 _1\. Quod mortui homines ambulantes – Dead men walking_

The heavy footfalls of boots echo through the near silent home, only accompanied by the quiet whimpers of a disheveled man strewn across the floor. Another man, masked and burly in stature, strides over to the man on the floor. Giving a powerful kick to the other man's midsection the masked man hisses, "Silence!" over the pained groans, before going to stand by the door and withdrawing a pistol from his waistband.

* * *

/Objective Alert: Number Endangered

/Evaluating Situation…

/Threat Analysis: Twelve Hostiles, Unknown Weaponry

/Reevaluating Situation…

/Threat Analysis: Confirmed

/Number Class: Irrelevant

/Loading Secondary Protocols…

/Evaluating Assets…

/Assets: Primary Asset Unfit for Current Threat

/Evaluating Operators…

/Operators: Fit for Current Threat

/Objective Alert: Operators Endangered

/Alert Overriding…

/Alert Overrode

/Activating Operators…

/Operator Status: 01 : Active

/Operator Status: 02 : Active

/Operator Status: 03 : Active

/Operator Status: 04 : Active

/Operator Status: 05 : Active

* * *

A man clad in black lay upon the rooftop of building down the block from another two story building. He removed a rangefinder from a pouch on his black chest rig. After sweeping his gaze from window to window of the building he focused in on a man who was writhing on the floor. Replacing the rangefinder in its pouch, the man clad in black slid a long matte case free of his back. Grasping the black body of the rifle that laid within, the man methodically connects a 35" barrel, suppressor, 20x telescopic sight, modified grip, and the firing stock.

* * *

A black armoured van rolled up to the entrance of a brick building, its windows boarded with hastily placed planks. The van's side door is trust open and five black-clad people leap out, MP5s trained on the building. As they approach the main entrance one removes a shield from their back and withdraws a Glock, their MP5 slug onto their back. The operatives each have four white diamonds upon their shoulder and their faces covered by masks. The back of their vests say "Firewall" and underneath the diamonds are the words " _Si vis pacem, para bellum_ ".

The operatives, four men and one women, stack up on either side of the main entrance's polished mahogany doors. The woman steps fourth and places a charge before returning. She holds up three fingers, then two, then one, then clicks a detonator. **Bang!** The operator with the shield charges through the splintered doorway, followed by the other operators. **Pop, pop pop!** One hostile drops clutching his side and another sends returning fire before being cut down. The shieldman and two other operators go into a low crouch against the righthand wall and proceed into the living room whilst the remaining two operators hold the entranceway, dropping two more hostiles. Upon entering the living room the operators are met with five more hostiles. In a wedge formation the operators push inwards. The leftmost operator goes down, flopped back limply with a bullet in his neck. The remaining non-shielded operator makes to move towards the hostage, strafing as he goes. Pulling the beaten man up, the operator makes towards the doorway as the shieldman drops the last hostile.

Once more entering the entryway hall, the shieldman, the operator, and the hostage move towards the doorway. **Pumpt!** The operator and hostage fall to the ground. The hostage with a gaping hole in his chest and the operator with one in his side. **Pumpt!** With a sickening crack the shieldman's head snaps back and he falls back limply, a dark red puddle slowly forming on the floor under him. The remaining to operators dive into cover. The last three hostiles from the house make a sprint towards the door. **Pumpt! Pumpt! Pumpt!** They drop. The woman gestures towards the back of the house. The two operators slowly make their way towards the rear hall. **Pumpt!** The operators drop, the man with a punctured chest cavity and the women from taking the ricochet to her right thigh. The man began to cough up blood and the woman inched towards him, hidden by debris.. **Pumpt!** The man stills.

* * *

The man clad in black scans the house for movement. At the lack of any, the man deconstructs the rifle and leaves.


	2. Those Who Survive

**AN: Hello everyone! I will apologise as this chapter is shorter than I had planned and was finished a day later than intended. I've made a note that I owe you all an extra long chapter to make up for it. Either way, enjoy!**

 _2\. Qui supersunt – Those Who Survive_

An young teen, with long and scraggly blond locks, tentatively crept though what was once a front door. Creaks and cracks sounded through the building as the girl moved over debris. The main hall was thick with the coppery stench of blood and released bowls. She stilled when a pained groan came from what she had thought was another corpse. After a second the girl began to inch towards the not-so-dead body, careful to avoid the large pools of dark liquid on the floor. Upon reaching the person, the girl is met with a semi-conscious woman, her balaclava pulled down, whose canines are elongated. The woman was holding her bandaged, bloodied, right leg.

After half carrying/half dragging the woman to the armoured van outside, the teen ran back inside the battered building. She then emerged a minute with four sets of dog tags clutched in her hands. Depositing the tags in the woman's breast pocket, the teen moved to then place the woman in the van's passenger seat.

* * *

/Operator Status: 01 : KIA

/Operator Status: 02 : KIA

/Operator Status: 03 : KIA

/Operator Status: 04 : KIA

/Operator Status: 05 : Unknown

/Searching for Operator 05, SABINE WILKSHIRE,…

/Operator Located

/Operator Status: 05: Wounded

/Sending location of nearest medical aid…

/Alerting medical services…

* * *

A small GPS on the dashboard lit up suddenly, directions loaded. The blond teen took this as a sign that this is the right thing to do and started the van. Carefully pulling out of the lot, the teen followed the programmed route. Only a few blocks away was a small clinic. She pulled into the back, stoping the van with a jerk. Before she even had the chance to unbuckle, two men in medical scrubs had ran out of the building with a stretcher and were hauling the injured women into the clinic.

* * *

A man clad in black is prone on a rooftop, rifle at the ready. He watches three men leave the building across from him, the man in the centre is wearing an expensive suit. He trains his sights on the middleman and pulls the trigger. With a muffled pop, the rifle kicks back and the centre man drops like a sack of stones. The other two men sprint in opposite directions. The man clad in black trains on the man going left. With another muffled pop the rifle kicks back once more and the second man drops forward into the pavement. Half a second later a pop sounds from down the street and the third man drops. The man clad in black quickly, yet methodically, disassembles his rifle and makes for the emergency ladder. In the back alleyways the man clad in black is met with another man, this one in all black modern combat gear. With a mutual nod the two men melt into the shadows as, in the street, a man in a suit runs up to the fallen men.


	3. Wolf and Spy

**AN: Hello everyone! I promised a longer chapter and here it is. A warning for the future: there will be German used by the characters so everyone get out your dictionaries. (Feel free to correct me on my German grammer and spelling)**

 **On a non-story note, I have recently got back from a month in Leipzig, Germany. While there I also visted Berlin, Dresdan, and Weimar and it was an amazing expirernce all around. I hope to visit again sometime soon. Back to the story though, enjoy!**

 _3\. Lupus et Spy – Wolf and Spy_

On a clinical bed lay a woman in black BDUs. She was 5'2" and had short blond hair.. There was a plastic chair next to the bed. On it was a teenager, her long blond hair resting on her shoulders as she stared at the woman with poorly conceal nor controlled curiosity. Her control have given out the teen reached out to the bed-ridden woman and poked her arm.

With a slight jerk the older blond awoke. After a moment of blinking the woman took in the teen with her icy blue eyes. Tilting her head a fraction, the woman briefly open her mouth before closing it again. The teen, taking this as permission to continue, bounced of her chair excitedly. "Who are you? Are you a soldier? Where are you from? Why were you in that house? What is 'the firewall'? Wh-", the teen halted when the woman held up her hand and frowned at the onslaught. "Before I consider answering anything, who are you?" The woman spoke with a heavy german accent, yet didn't sound angry at the teen's questions more…annoyed. The blond teen paused for a moment before replying, "Genrika Zhirova, junior spy, at your service." The teen announcement was even accompanied by a mock bow. "But call me Gen."

Before anything else was said however, there was a light knock on the door and an nurse entered. The man looked at Gen. "Excuse me miss, can I have a moment with the patient?" The young teen nodded and proceeded to step out of the room. The man then stepped forth, "We have…followed the instructions sent from your boss and…um…kept this", he gestures to the woman's leg, "off record. We've removed all the shrapnel from your leg and sewn it back up. It may be sore or painful for a considerable amount of time. I would recommend…um…not putting excessive strain on your leg for the next month or so. Otherwise you are free to go.".

The woman carefully pulled herself from the bed. After putting weight on her right leg and deeming it satisfactory, she moved to grab her removed gear from the side table and replace them in their proper spots. She gave a nod to the nurse before exiting the room.

* * *

The nurse exited the room shortly after the woman. He watched as the teen bounced up to the woman. "You should meet my grandfather. You would like him." The woman stood for a moment before nodding. The woman paused once more before saying, "Sabine". The teen looked at the woman for a second before breaking into a wide smile.

* * *

 **~10 Hours after mission failure**

Gen watches as the blond woman, Sabine, pulls open the steel doors of an old cellar. Sabine, still dressed in her black BDUs, pulls a USP-Tactical from its leg holster and enters the cellar. A few seconds later she comes back, sidearm ounce more holstered, with a dark green metal crate. Gen cocked her head, "What's that?". "Munitions" was all she got in response. After heaving the crate into the rear of the van, Sabine reentered the cellar. Following the repeat this process four more times Sabine came out with a long, rectangular container cradled in her arms. The woman sets it down so it rests on the back bumper before unlatching the case. Sneaking a look before the case was closed again, Gen spots a compact sniper rifle laying within its confines.

* * *

 **~2 Days after mission failure**

A blond woman sits on the edge of a small cot, head buried in her hands. The room is sparsely lit. Only a small bedside lamp is on, casting deep shadows across the woman. On a cheap wooden table lies four sets of dog tags. They lie still caked in blood. The only sound is the creak of the cot.

* * *

 **~2 Months after mission failure**

Gen wakes to the sound of laughter in the next room. Crawling out of her bed, care to not make noise, she makes her way to her door. Creaking it open she is met with the sight of her grandfather seated next to Sabine. A war documentary plays in the background as her grandfather recounts his past exploits to the woman, who listens with a smile. Creeping back under her covers, Gen drifts back into the land of dreams with a small smile.

* * *

 **~4 Months after mission failure**

A blond woman and teen stand in an deserted cemetery. The woman holds the teen close as the girl weeps. Breaking away from the woman, the teen rains in her sobs and places a small bouquet of flowers in front of a gravestone before moving the leave. The woman gives a long and crisp salute before following the teen.

* * *

 **~6 Months after mission failure**

Gen plugs the last cable in and looks to Sabine, who checks the tape recorders and gives a thumbs up. Sabine's hair is brown with only the ends blond now and stops at the top of her forehead. Checking for any passerby the two make their way out of the ducts and into the corridor beyond. Once at the door to her apartment Gen turns to Sabine, "Can't I stay out longer?". The woman shakes her head, "No, you don't wanted to worry Vadim now do you?". Gen rolls her eyes but turns to open the door. "Hey Gen. Before I go I've got something for you." Sabine holds out a pair of dog tags. They read:

 _"Zhirova, Genrika_

 _International Espionage Extraordinaire_

 _NSA, CIA, ISA, and Others_

 _Has been vaccinated"_

As Gen reads the tags she smiles and gives a laugh and then slips then around her neck. She gives nod of thanks before entering her apartment. After the door has clicked shut Sabine pulls out her phone and verifies the tracker is working properly. As the woman exists the building she inputs a number into her phone and brings it up to her ear. "Hallo Groves, Es ist Wilkshire. Ich habe eine Arbeitsgelegenheit für Sie."

* * *

 **~10 Months after mission failure**

A woman with bright red hair and dark brown eyes locks the final MP5 into the racks that encompass the room. The woman walks back out the door into an open living space. It has a small kitchen, gym equipment, washer, and dryer. In the centre of the room lies a round wooden table and five chairs. To the woman's left is the door to a bathroom and on her right is the sleeping quarters. Seated around the table is a man with black hair and , a woman with brown hair and brown eyes, and a woman with black hair and green eyes. "Hey Linda, you should give your Schwester a call. Tell her that were all moved in and ready to go." The woman with brown hair stands and fishes out her phone before moving to the kitchen area.

* * *

 **~12 Months after mission failure**

Gen is packing up her backpack for the day. Camera, check. School supplies, check. Phone, check. Tags, check. Glancing at the clock she hastens her pace. There's knocking at the door and Gen looks up, listening in. She can discern slightly muffled words of the visitor. "Agent Stone, Immigration and Customs. I'm looking for Genrika Zhirova." This is followed by a shout of "Genrika!" from Vadim.

* * *

Gen exits her room and locks it shut before turning to the visitor. 'Agent Stone' is a small Persian woman with a mean scowl. "Can I help you?" The Persian woman looks surprised, "Y-you're Genrika?". Gen quickly corrects the woman,"Gen. Nobody calls me Genrika". The woman give a look around. "Are your parents here?" the teen shakes her head. "My mom's in prison in Russia. I never knew my dad. I came here a few years ago to live with my grandfather." "And where is he?", the woman continues in her questioning. "Cemetery. He died eight months ago. Shouldn't you guys already know this stuff?" "So now you live with, um...", the woman falters for a moment before Gen continues. "Vadim. We're, like, third cousins or something. He's supposed to be taking care of me now. Which means he gets an extra 200 a month and a free place to live." It is at this moment that Vadim pitches in, "They should pay me twice that to put up with her.", he sniffs, "Always sneaking around, taking pictures. Crazy little girl thinks she's a spy". At this Gen shrugs, "I'm just practicing for my career". At this point the Persian seems to be reaching, "Career doing what?". Gen once again shrugs. "International espionage. What's this about?" 'Agent Stone' quickly responds with, "Just a routine check". The teen snorts, "Routine, my ass. Is there a problem with my immigration status?" "No. I—" The teen presses her advantage. "Why'd they send you? Agent Cross normally handles my case." The Persian pauses, "There is no Agent Cross.", she gives a curt laugh before continuing, "Look, uh, do you need any help here?" Gen shakes her head. "I'm fine, but you're making me late for school. "

* * *

A women is sat on a munitions crate, her red hair is cut down almost to the point of being a buzz. In her hand is some playing cards. Around her sits a man and another women, also seated on munitions crates. In the middle of the three is a larger crate with a haphazard pile of cards in the middle. They hear a knocking from the other room followed by the click of an lock being disengaged and a door opened. The black haired woman looks up, "Was it the wisest choice to have Linda as the welcoming party?". The redhead simply shrugs. She holds up a closed fist and then five fingers. The other woman shakes her head, "No red five, go fish". As the redhead grabbed a card from the pile the other woman just shakes her head, "Well if she gets herself stabbed again I might just forget how I feel about her and let her bleed out". This draws a laugh from the other players. From the other room, the sound of bone impacting bone rings man sighs and turns to dark haired woman. "Looks like it's that time again Eve, you better go patch up your girl." The man's tone was teasing but Eve gave a sigh and stood up, before moving to the door and cursing her mate under her breath.

* * *

The blonde teen had noticed the compact Persian agent following her as she left her building. Gen looked in the reflection of a window before looking at the woman herself. With the woman now looking elsewhere, the teen moved onwards though she failed to notice a man in a suit watching her. As Gen turned the corner a black sedan comes screeching to a halt and five men exit. The men move on Gen, restraining her for a moment before a man in a suit engages the three closest attackers. The teen takes this opportunity to bolt for a set of stairs nearby. One of the men points to the fleeing girl, "Hey! Get her!". Him and another man take after the teen. Gen had not even reached half way on the stairs before the men had caught up. The door at the base of the stairs swung open and the Persian agent sped through, letting loose a few shots. The attacks ducked to either side and the rounds simply pinged off the stairs. Grabbing the teen, the Persian pulled her inside.

* * *

 **~48 Hours later**

Sabine sits upon a plastic chair inside a metal container. A small lamp is magnetically clamped to the low ceiling. Her eyes are shrouded despite the light from the lamp, her hands clasped in front of her.

* * *

 **~48 Hours earlier**

The woman has on hand on her gun and another on the teen, "Well, Finch, so much for keeping me away from the kid.". A squirrelly voice sounds through the Persian's comms, "Ms. Zhirova. Is she safe?". The woman gives a look around before answering. "For now. But I don't think our tangos have given up." A ruff, harder voice responds, "Me either. What's your 20?". "Sub-basement. A few floors down." The gravelly voice sounds once more, "Hold your position. I'm on my way.". Stopping, the Persian now turns to the teen. "Any idea what this is about? Do you know who those men were or why they tried to grab you?" Gen gives a shrug, "Probably because I'm a spy.". She says this should be obvious. The woman rolls her eyes before replying over her comm. "She doesn't know." The pair begin moving once more.

The response on the comms is quick. "So we have no idea who's after her? The guy giving orders had a tremor in his hand." At this point the woman cuts in, "Could be Parkinson's. It's a rare enough condition. It might help us to identify him.". She urges the teen along before speaking. "All right, John, I'll meet you at the northeast corner." The squirrelly voice is quick to overrule. "No. Please stay put, Ms. Shaw. Mr. Reese will come to you. Your job is to protect Ms. Zhirova at all costs." Shaw is reluctant to agree. "Sir, yes, sir." She pauses when the teen pokes her in the arm. Gen draws back her hand and mumbles an explanation. "I thought you might be a robot." The woman thinks for a moment that she heard disappointment in the teen's voice.

* * *

 **~48 Hours later**

The blond woman pulls out an serrated combat knife and begins twirling it in her hands. Light gleams off five pairs of dog tags sat around her neck. "They my squadmates'. The tags I mean." She shifts the slightest in her chair. "Killed by a sniper on an routine op. A skilled sniper at that though. I have yet to witness a better combination of efficiency and brutality."

* * *

 **~48 Hours earlier**

"What's your name?" "Not important." The teen paused for a second, "Well, who are you? Why are you here? How'd you know I was gonna be in trouble?". Shaw just gritted her teeth and taps her comm. "How's it going, John?" His gravely voice sounds. "Still clearing our extraction route, same as I was two minutes ago."

"Who's John? Is he your friend? Is he your boyfriend?", the teen questioned. "No. He's a coworker." "Coworker." The woman looks at Gen after she says this, who takes it as a go-ahead for her next barrage. "So this is your job? What are you? Like, Spec Ops or something? Oh, man! What agency do you work for? CIA? NSA? INSCOM? Why would a big agency like that care what happens to me?" "We're not a big agency." The teen thinks for a second, "Why would a small agency care what happens to me?" "We're not any agency. We're just a... I don't even know what we are. To be honest, I'm only in it for the dog." The woman's mirth is apparent in her tone. Gen, ever oblivious, questions further, "You guys have a dog?"

There is noise a little ways behind the pair. "No sign of 'em here." Shaw turns to Gen quietly, "Shh". Footsteps ring out before the voice calls out again. "Clear. Check the next room." The Persian takes this moment to peak around the corner and level her sidearm. "I got eyes on two tangos, Finch. I'm taking 'em out." The squirrelly man is quick to overrule once more. "Absolutely not! If anything happened to you, Ms. Zhirova would be defenseless. Let Mr. Reese worry about the kidnappers. You just get the girl out of there." Peaking around the corner, Shaw nudges the teen. "Now. Shh. We can handle it. All right. Come on." The men turn at the noise. "There they are!" At this, the pair spring into motion. Shaw keeping her charge ahead of her, "Run. Let's move!" Gen breaks for a ventilation cover on the wall and starts undoing its latches. The teen turns to Shaw, "This way. It's okay. I'm in here all the time. My listening station. We should be safe here."

The pair close up the cover and work their way through the vents at a low crouch. After a minute or so, the vents opened up into a shaft. In the centre on some boxes lays a plethora of tape recorders. Each with wires sprouting out and heading outwards through the vents. Genrika moves towards the centre. As she does this Shaw continues her inspection, "You did all this?". "Told you I was a spy", the teen picks out a bundle of severed wires, "But I didn't do this". The Persian stalked closer to the cut wires. "Finch. I think I might know what this is all about. Gen has this whole building wired, and it looks like someone found out what she was up to." "Any idea who?", can the response. She then turns to the teen. "Did any of the people you ever recorded talk about committing any crimes?" Genrika looks up from her recorders then shrugs, "Lots of them. I bugged anyone who looked suspicious". The Persian's look was incredulous. "Did it ever occur to you that that might have been a really bad idea?"

Gen gave one of her famous shrugs, "I was just trying to get the drug dealers out of my building". "Did you give the tapes to anyone?" Gen shook her head, "Not yet. New York's just like Russia- you can't trust the cops. I was waiting till I had something on the dealers that was too big to ignore". The Persian's incredulous look returned. "Yeah, they're not ignoring you, kid." "Well, I know that now."

She roots around the recording machines, noting the lack of recorded media before turning back to the teen. "So where are the tapes?" If looks could kill, the one that Gen was giving might slightly maim someone. The woman was almost proud at the display. "Somewhere safe. Hey. I'm a spy too, remember?"

* * *

A smaller, squirrelly man was sitting in an office chair in an old library. He was working on three monitors and gave a small jump when one monitor beeped. "Got a location on the tapes, Finch. You're gonna wanna write this down." The man, Finch, grabbed a notepad and a pen.

* * *

The agent was peaking out the grate, watching the hostiles as they searched. "Clear", the lead man declares before moving to the next area. Said area being closer to the ventilation grate. The man notices the pair and gives a shout before him and his goons open fire. The pair duck back into the ventilation network, making their way into the winding shafts once more. The leader pulls out a mobil, "We got rats in the walls, but I got a plan. Get the masks from the trunk. Let's go!". Gunfire sounds from another part of the building.

* * *

The pair come to a halt in one of the straighter sections of the ventilation network. The woman turns to Gen, checking her over for injuries. "You all right?" The teen nods, "I'm fine". They then both lean back against the vent's wall. The teen gives a jump at every gunshot. The woman doesn't turn to Gen but speaks anyway, "I'm Shaw". Gen turns to the woman, Shaw, at this. "Nice to meet you". Shaw gives the smallest of nods. She then gestures in the general direction of the ventilation centre before speaking, " Where'd you learn how to do that?".

"My grandfather taught me. He was in the KGB. Gave me this too. Order of Lenin. I wear it everywhere I go." Shaw inspects the medal for a moment. "You should sell it. Probably worth a lot of money." A silence then settles between them. "A friend of mine also helped, gave me these as well." The teen grabs at a chain that was around her neck, pulling up a pair of dog tags. After reading the inscription Shaw gives Gen a searching look. The teen shifts under the gaze before the woman speaks up, "Your friend is…knowledgable". An silence once more settles upon the pair.

"What's wrong with you? I mean, why are you... like this?" Shaw lets out a sigh, You know that thing that made you flinch? I don't get that." Gen cocks her head, "You don't get scared?". "Or sad. Or happy or lonely. I do angry okay, but... that's about it." The vent is silent for a moment as the teen thinks on this, "Did something happen?". Shaw thinks on this, "Been this way as long as I can remember. I was, uh...", she pauses briefly, "about your age... when I figured out I was different."

With an angry hiss, thick gas starts pouring into the vent. Gen is up on her feet in an instant, "What's that?". Shaw begins to urge the teen in the opposite direction of the gas. She answers as they move, " R-22. They must have punctured the pipes for the building's AC. We'll be dizzy in 10 seconds, unconscious in 40". Gen turns to the Persian, "What happens after that?". Her response is instantaneous, "You don't wanna know. Come on". As the pair are moving, the Russians cut them off. Shaw goes to engage, despite her growing nauseated state, and is rewarded with a pistol grip to the face. The man begins to drag the Persian as another grabs the teen. "Shaw! No! Shaw!"

* * *

 **~47 Hours Later**

"Oh, how impolite of me. I never introduced myself." The woman leans back in her chair, shifting a little as well. "I'll start with a little about me." The woman shifts again. "I was institutionalised for a brief period, but I was, uh…discharged less than a day later. You know? I still don't actually know why I was admitted, but as they say _dead men tell no tales_." The man's eyes blow wide at this and he tries to shift his chair away from the woman. She cocks her head, not unlike a dog, "What are you trying to accomplish?"

* * *

 **~5 Hours Earlier**

A black sedan pulls under an overpass. A man gets out with a shovel in hand. He pops open the trunk where he is then promptly hit across the face with an crowbar.

"Maybe clean out your trunk next time, dumbass."


End file.
